Progeny
by Lady Azar de Tameran
Summary: One Shot. This will change them. Some fundamental aspect of them will be forever altered. He honestly thinks it is for the better. Kirk/Spock. Sequel to Soliloquy and Ignominy.


**_Progeny_**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Star Trek_. Sadly enough. All characters are depicted as legal age.

**Warnings**: Vague spoilers for the recent movie, suggested slash

AN: Sequel to _Ignominy_ and _Soliloquy_. This will probably be the last of this series. I'm open to suggestions, however.

* * *

Of all the people to oppose their mating and marriage, Spock never imagined that it would be Jim's mother. His own father perhaps. Or Doctor McCoy. Someone else from the ship. One of the admirals of Starfleet.

Yet, all of them approve. At least outwardly.

Winona Kirk is different. She does not state her disapproval, but it is clear in the grim lines of her face. The subtle hardening of her eyes, ones that are human but so very different from those of Amanda Grayson. These are tired eyes, windows to the worn and weary soul within. To the woman who left her two sons with a string of stepfathers as she tried to escape her grief. To the mother who looks at her youngest child and still only feels a vague disappointment, only sees a boy who will never be worth even half of his dead father.

It is not because Spock is male or even that he is Vulcan. She is not privy to the more violent parts of their shared history or even much beyond the fact that they serve together. In all honesty, he cannot discern why she dislikes him so. Why she stiffens at the mere sight of him. Why she is always brisk and making excesses to leave whenever he is present. Why she so very rarely visits during their return trips to Earth.

Maybe she simply feels that he is not an adequate mate. That he will never truly understand Jim. That he is not emotional enough for any human. That he is too repressed, too insular for such a bright and outspoken person. Or perhaps she simply sees too much of George Kirk in her son and expected to find herself within his spouse.

But regardless of her personal feelings and his own assessment of her character, she is still Jim's mother. And he is still Jim's spouse. There is a link between them, and they are both unfailingly polite for his sake if nothing else.

That is a fact he must remind himself of repeatedly as the screen before them chimes and then flares to life with her likeness reflected. She smiles at her son and gives Spock a brief nod of greeting, which they both return. It is a live connection for once, something worthy of the occasion. And she must undoubtedly know that the situation is far from usual.

"What's this about, Jim?" Winona asks once they have finished their pleasantries. Her hair brushes her shoulders as she tilts her head to the side, lips firm with both confusion and a hint of worry.

A clock chimes in the background, but it is not visible from their end. Instead, all he sees are the walls behind her, which are covered with antique wallpaper, and the single window shows a red barn in the distance. Spock can only assume she is at the family homestead, a place he has never been.

"It's nothing bad. Honest," Jim adds at her dubious expression. "We just have a little exciting news that we wanted to share with you." He is practically bouncing on the spot, so very eager to tell her.

Spock can already see the suspicion forming in her eyes. But he notices her visibly dismiss it. He is ostensibly Vulcan, after all. And they do not breed so easily or freely with outsiders. How quickly she forgets his own origins.

"What kind of news, sweetheart?" she questions, trying and failing to inject enthusiasm into her voice.

"Well…" Jim hesitates as his gaze flickers to Spock, hand darting out to give his an unseen squeeze and release. "You're going to be a grandma, Mom!" he announces then. Unbelievably proud and with a smile that would put a Denobulan to shame. Wide and so very pleased. As though every favorite holiday and festival have come all at once.

Winona Kirk freezes. Her mouth opens and then closes just as swiftly and with a sharp snap. Jim, who has been awaiting for a congratulations at the very least, stills beside him. His smile dissolves in a wave of uncertainty, and he just watches as his mother's eyes narrow into slits. As her hair frizzles and nearly stands on end.

Then, she abruptly reaches forward and terminates the connection.

They both stare at the blank screen in silence. In something bordering on shock. The only sound is that of ship around them. The faint hiss of breath as Jim exhales. Never in his most improbable and illogical thoughts did Spock consider this outcome, think that she would refuse to listen at all. That her dislike of him would translate so easily to that of her future grandchildren.

Spock can only sit there dimly as the permutations run in his mind. Can only wonder how this went so terribly wrong so quickly. Can only feel the man beside him as he shifts to put his head in his hands.

And when he reaches for Jim's shoulder, it trembles beneath his touch.

-O.o.O-

Technology has grown in leaps and bounds in the last few centuries, and nearly every problem of conception can now be overcome. Including the fact that both donors are male. Still, the thought of growing a child, _his child_, in a glass tank is mildly repugnant. But despite the good doctor's protests and Spock's own understanding of the process, the artificial womb is essentially that.

Sarek is pleased by their announcement. As is his counterpart. The Vulcan elders take it with stoic grace. Yet, even they seem to receive it with a positive air. This is good news. Good for Spock and Jim. Good for their friends. Good for the ship as a whole. And even better for his people.

Vulcans need as many offspring as they can possibly obtain, and Spock's diluted heritage is more precious than anyone originally imagined. An effective if temporary widening of the gene pool that will be easily erased within a handful of generations. Or at least, that is what the elders think and say when they learn of his impending fatherhood.

Spock knows differently.

This will change them. Things will never be as they once were. Some fundamental aspect of them, their society, their race will be forever altered.

He honestly thinks it is for the better. His child will never know the hardship that he did. Will never know such isolation. Will never know anything but acceptance and love.

They visit her every day. Traveling to the little corner tucked away by Doctor McCoy's office. But one day, the doctor is already there and waiting for them. There is something odd to his face, a peculiar cast that gives Spock an unintended chill before he can reassert control.

"What is it, Bones?" Jim all but demands, fingers seeking Spock's in that instant. "What's wrong?"

McCoy purses his lips, but there is something like happiness underneath. "Nothing per se," he reassures softly. "It's not bad, Jim. Just come and look."

He motions them forward, and they bend down together to study the readout on the side. It puzzles them both for a moment, and Spock feels Jim's sudden jolt of realization shoot through him seconds before he also comes to comprehend.

There is more than one set of readings on the screen. Not a baseline and a current measurement as he had originally assumed but two similar yet diverse readings. Ones taken from multiple individuals, from _two_ separate individuals.

The embryo has split. A one in one hundred thousand chance for a purely human sample in such a situation. With one that is a mixture of both human and Vulcan, the odds are incalculable. The last set of Vulcan identical twins were born when his father was still a small child and before his mother's parents had even met.

His mother had believed in miracles. However, this is the first time Spock has ever considered the possibility that they actually exist.

-O.o.O-

"I never thought I'd have kids," Jim confesses as he holds both of them carefully to his chest. "Never thought I'd be responsible enough."

_Good enough_ is what he really means.

But Spock cannot censure and simply repeats the sentiment.

"Neither did I," he admits, brushing a finger over a small and upturned face.

His daughter merely sighs into his touch and settles closer to her sister.

They are both so tiny and fragile. Delicately pointed ears and small hands that can barely wrap around one of his fingers. Their hair is downy soft but neither blond nor black. Instead, it is the deep brown of Amanda Grayson, and some secret but whimsical part of him hopes that it will curl slightly at the end just as hers did.

While he has a human mother, he is only a fourth human genetically speaking. It is simply the way Vulcan and human genes were mixed for his conception. His children, however, are a truly half-human. And are far more representative of that fact.

He knows that their blood is still green, but their hearts are higher in the chest and beat slower. Their skin is still warm to the touch but not as hot as his or as cool as Jim's. He does not know how physically strong they will be yet, but he can already feel their telepathy buzzing underneath the surface of their skin, which is far smoother and more pliant than his own. Their noses are still too tiny to discern completely, but he detects the curve of his mate's face in their cheeks. Sees himself and Sarek in their chins. Amanda in the pout of their mouths.

Spock can and does gaze at them for hours. Just sits contentedly with Jim as he makes them laugh and observes him try to earn a set of smiles. Watches his daughters take in the sights with innocence and curiosity and complete wonder.

Both of them have Jim's blue eyes.

* * *

Ever Hopeful,

_Azar_


End file.
